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by Lidsworth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Domestic, Fluff and Angst, I suppose, M/M, One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: Kallus muses on Zeb’s constant shedding.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First Kalluzeb fic I've written, though I do a ton of headcanons. Talk to me on my [tumblr](http://inkstranger.tumblr.com/)!  
> As always, there's bound to be some mistakes. I don't own Star Wars!

Nowadays, Kallus sweeps their wooden floor more than he sleeps on his days off, instinctively reaching for the broom the moment he steps over the threshold, which, as always, is so strategically placed close to their front door. Automatically, he grabs the wooden handle, bringing the straw stands to the floor before he even removes his shoes.

Kallus quite enjoys the activity. Seeing the swirls of purple fur and its varying shades dancing around in the dim light of the living room is unusually calming. As one who partakes in the more “dirty” work of the Rebellion (Kallus never changed his job, so to speak. In terms of spy work, he is still as vile, and violent as he was in the Empire. The only thing that changed was his loyalty), coming home to a _routine,_ to an act that takes his mind off of the blood, and the guilt-ridden espionage, and innocent, dead children, and pale, ghoulish faces, the shrills of terror, and _so_ much more, grounds him.

Not to mention, the hair _is_ Zeb’s.

It’s nice—Kallus thinks—to be able to come to a home where someone _loves_ you.

The Lasat hair is a reminder that Kallus is no longer alone, that he’s no longer drifting in the middle of space on a cold, _lonely_ Star Destroyer, with only a meteorite to keep him warm.

Now he has more—so much more. And the hair is a reminder.

Initially it used to bother him.

It’s bright purple stood out quite obviously on his black attire, and was quite the cause of conversation amongst the few, small troops he’d taken with him on his missions. It stuck to his socks as he walked around, found itself intertwined with the fabrics of the sheets and towels.

It was a tedious thing—not to mention, some of his comrades (“ _comrades”_ is too strong of a word. People he has to work with is the more accurate term) were _allergic_ to it.

But any complaints that he had regarding Zeb’s continuous shedding evaporate the moment that Kallus spotted a strand on his clothing during a particularly _bloody_ battle away from home. Despite the utter corruption and destruction unfolding around him, despite his heart thumping against his ribcage like a time bomb, and the blaster lasers that shoot past him with lighting speed, he felt at _ease._

He could feel Zeb around him, could smell him, and though he was not with Kallus at the time, he was enveloped in his…presence (or as Kanan called it, the Force).

Now he savors it.  For it could be the last thing, the last remnant of _home_ he has before a sniper takes him out, of before the fallout of an explosion pulverizes him, or before the Empire finally finds him and ends him.

Or worse, before he’s picked off by “friendly fire”.

 

“You need help?” Zeb’s voice jolts him out of his daily musings, and he turns to the Lasat who’s fetched a broom for himself, and to no avail, sweeps the floor despite sheets of hair falling from his body. He hadn’t even realized that Zeb had gotten home yet (he doesn’t know whether that’s a good or a bad thing, considering that he’s let a large, hairy beast sneak up on him).

Nevertheless, Kallus laughs, reaching over and gently taking the broom from Zeb’s grasp.

“None that you can give, love,” Kallus chuckles lightly, placing the broom onto the wall, nearly retching at the pungent odor: “Now go upstairs and get yourself cleaned, I’ll have dinner for you when you’re out.”

“Are you sure?” Chances the Lasat, ears twitching forward, “I could….”  
  
“I’m certain, Zeb. You’ve had a rough day, I can tell…you stink,” he adds, “go upstairs.”

 Now Zeb laughs, embracing Kallus in his large arms, “You’re too good for me, Kal.”

“I’m not good at all, Zeb,” he manages, struggling to breath as the Lasat releases him, “Now _go.”_

He adds the last part before Zeb can complain, placing his own broom beside the Rebel’s when he gets the chance.

Zeb growls before finally complying, and Kallus releases a sigh when the water starts.

“The shower will be hard to clean,” Kallus speaks aloud as heads to the kitchen, thinking of the hair—the fur, “Not that I mind any.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. Do me a favor and tell me what you think in the comments. Trying to cheer myself up before Saturday's episode. Prayer circle for Maul pleaassseee (and kallus, and thrawn lol why do i like bad guys so much)?!


End file.
